by Keri Arthur
“No.” Kiro grimaced. “There is a taint of passion about this murder. Hedra has no such emotion left in her.”
“If it’s an act of passion, surely the most logical suspect should be his hetaera, Lida.”
“She wouldn’t have murdered Marcus. Her standing in the Rossi house depended on his survival and favor.” He frowned. “Besides, she’s not a strong enough witch to have gotten in here unseen.”
“Unless she had help,” Trey stated. “Lida’s family lost a lot of face when Saska was welcomed back into the fold so readily by Marcus.”
“And she has three sons, hasn’t she?” I asked. “Could one or all of them be behind this act?”
“Possibly all.” Kiro’s expression was thoughtful. “But Jamson, as the eldest, has the most to gain by this death. Until Saska’s child is born and proven to hold magic, he’s the rightful heir, born of a hetaera or no. If Saska’s son is born into magic, then Jamson will act as regent until Saska’s child is of age.”
“If Saska was barely sixteen when she disappeared, how can Jamson—” I stopped, remembering what Trey had said about Lida being Marcus’s lover long before he committed to Saska.
“His marriage to Saska was political. Jamson was fifteen when the commitment ceremony happened.” Kiro paused, and frowned. “I’d originally thought he and Lida were behind Saska’s disappearance, but a reading of them both proved otherwise.”
If Kiro had bedded Jamson at fifteen in order to do a full reading, his suspicion must have been backed by a fair amount of evidence, given it was illegal to couple with anyone that young. Unless, of course, it was given full Forum backing, and that might have been the case. Marcus’s own brother had said he’d do whatever he thought proper to keep up appearances, so he might well have appealed to the Forum to allow a full interrogation of Jamson, if only to prove the innocence of his firstborn son.
It was also possible such an act might have been seen as a betrayal by Jamson, one that had possibly festered and grown in the years since.
“Just because they were innocent then doesn’t mean they are so now,” Trey commented.
“Indeed,” Kiro said. “And that should probably be our first line of questioning. The lady Lida resides in her suites within the Rossi household. Perhaps it would be best if you bring her here.”
“And Jamson?”
“Is at the masque.” Kiro’s gaze came to me, and a slight smile touched his lips. “Perhaps his retrieval should be left to our lady N.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And why is that, my lord?”
“Because Jamson is heavily invested in following the preachings of the god Drago, and has been seeding as many Reaches females as he possibly can.”
A statement that had me wondering if such licentious behavior was a result of being taken by Kiro at the tender age of fifteen. “I’m not the one who can gain the secrets of a man’s soul by bedding him.”
“You won’t have to. Last time I saw Jamson, he was heavily intoxicated. I doubt it’d take much to get him blathering like an idiot.”
I frowned, and waved a hand at Marcus’s body. “If he was intoxicated, he’s hardly likely to have been capable of doing this.”
“Unless the intoxication was merely an act to ensure there are plenty who can swear to his whereabouts at the time of Marcus’s body being found.”
I guess that was possible. “And what of Hedra?”
Kiro hesitated. “I have a man watching her. Once we’ve talked to Lida and Jamson, I’ll deal with Hedra. Even if she’s not responsible for this murder, she remains a threat.”
I glanced at Trey. “You were shadowing her movements, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but she never left the masque.”
“Which means nothing, as it’s more than possible this murder happened earlier than that,” Kiro said. “We’ll have to wait on the coroner’s report.”
“Why not request her incarceration now, just to be sure?” Trey said. “I’d sleep safer knowing she’d been neutralized.”
“I cannot formally arrest her without privately advising the Forum first.” Kiro’s mouth twisted. “I might have been given full rein to explore what goes on, but there are still some protocols involved when it comes to the heads of the twelve houses and their ladies.”
“Do you want me to bring Jamson back here?” I asked.
Kiro hesitated. “Only if you believe he’s played some part in this murder. But be wary. Jamson has a rather nasty streak in him, and if he is drunk, he’ll be all the more dangerous.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know. But still, stay wary. And call in help if you need it.” Kiro’s gaze switched to Trey. “It would be best if Lida is brought here without gathering too much attention.”
“Easier said than done, I suspect.”
“You have my permission to tape her mouth and hands if required.”
“And that won’t garner any additional attention, will it now?” Trey said, then caught my hand and led the way out of the room.
“So what does Jamson actually look like?” Though our footsteps made little noise on the warm stone flooring, the footman who’d initially escorted me to Hedra’s room reappeared. With a slight bow, he asked us to follow him, but kept a discreet distance.
Trey hesitated. “I’ve only seen him from a distance, but he’s tall and lean, with hair that is more dirty yellow than white.”
“And he wears the color of the Rossi house?”
“Yes. His mask rather resembles a snarling dog.”
I snorted. “Which is somewhat appropriate, if what Kiro said is true.”
“It is.”
Trey’s carriage was waiting out the front, and the odd silver tunnel had been rolled out to protect us from the weather. Trey helped me up into his carriage, his fingers gripping mine perhaps a little longer than necessary.
In very little time, we were back at the Rossi household. Once we’d reentered the main hallway, he pulled me close and slipped one hand around my waist to my spine. A show for those who were watching, I knew, but not one I was about to object to.
“I know you’re Nightwatch and more than capable of handling yourself,” he said softly, “but Jamson runs with a pack and none of them are pleasant.”
I frowned. “Then why is his presence abided?”
“Because he’s the current heir of a major house.” His expression was flat, but that edge of old pain and anger resurfaced. “As I have said, some of the ladies in this place will go to great lengths to capture such a man, no matter how heinous they might find him.”
“It seems to me that there is a very dark heart to the glitter that is life here in the Reaches.”
“I think you might be right.” His mouth twisted, though it held little in the way of humor. “Why do you think I remain at Blacklake? It’s not just for the sake of Eluria.”
“But the price of such freedom comes at a cost,” I said. “Blacklake is not without its dangers.”
“Yes. But she’s become a strong, independent woman well able to protect herself.” His smile grew, became filled with a warmth and humor that did strange things to my pulse rate. “In that, she very much reminds me of someone else.”
“And just who might that be?” I asked, pressing a little closer.
His grip tightened briefly. “A witch named Saska, perhaps?”
I slapped his arm in indignation and he laughed softly. “Or not.” He leaned forward and kissed me. It was little more than a brush of lips, but it held a heat, a promise, that had desire rising. “Unfortunately, we both have people to hunt down. This discussion can be continued later.” He hesitated, and then added, “Please be careful.”
“And you.”
“I am not the one about to face a drunken pack on their home ground.”
He stepped back and bowed before walking across to the stairs leading down to the next level. I adjusted my slightly skewed mask then moved into the ballroom, pausing at the top of the stairs as I searc
hed the room for someone who fitted the description I’d been given. Once again, a blue-suited footman approached and bowed lightly. “Maybe I can be of assistance, m’lady?”
“I’m looking for Lord Jamson.”
Distaste briefly flashed across the footman’s face. “I believe he’s with friends in the blue room.”
“And where might that be?”
“If you follow this wall around to the right,” he said, waving a hand at the wall behind us, “it is the last door before you come to the white terrace. Be careful, m’lady. He’s in a mood.”
“Then perhaps you should wander past that room at some point in the near future, in case help is needed.” While I was more than able to protect myself, it was still four male witches against one woman armed with only a small knife and very unreliable powers.
“I’ll do as you suggest.” He bowed and left.
I followed the wall around. There seemed to be a lot more people in the room tonight, but I guessed that wasn’t surprising when the equinox was only a few hours away now. The music was rambunctious and loud, and the dance floor so crowded there was barely room to move. Even so, I heard the half scream as I neared the blue room. It was a sound that abruptly cut off, but the hairs along the back of my neck nevertheless rose.
That sound had come from a woman’s throat, not a man’s.
I tried to open the door, but it was locked. I pressed closer, listening intently. There were at least three men inside; a couple of them were talking and laughing, the other making rather crude suggestions as to what should be done next.
Underneath all that was a whimper of distress.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening. Anger surged through me and with it came the wind. She ran under the door and, a heartbeat later, had it unlatched. I quietly stepped inside. The four men didn’t even notice. Three of them were too busy discussing the actions of the forth, who was plundering a woman strapped facedown against a table.
I took three quick steps, raised a fist, and swung it as hard as I could. As the blow hit the first man’s chin and smashed him sideways, I spun and lashed out with a bare heel at the second. It hit him hard in the gut, forcing a grunt of pain as he staggered backward several feet. The third man spun around, his expression shocked even as he swung a clenched fist at my face. But the blow was wide and slow, and I had plenty of time to duck it. A quick, hard uppercut had him tumbling backward over a chair. He hit the ground awkwardly and didn’t move.
The fourth man—a man with dirty yellow-blond hair—swore and swung around, his thick cock rampant and bloody as he grabbed the air and flung it at me. It threw me back several steps before I was able to brace myself against it. The man I’d hit in the gut grabbed my arm, but I twisted out of his grip and thrust him as hard as I could against the nearest wall. I didn’t wait to see the result, but dove under another blow of air and grabbed Jamson by his ball sac.
“One move, be it from you or the air,” I ground out, “and I shall rip these things free from your body and feed them to the Adlin.”
He made an odd sound of distress and pain, and became a statue. I wasn’t even sure he dared to breathe. I slid my knife free and pointed it at the man I’d thrown against the wall. His nose was broken and there was blood all over his face and mouth. I hoped like hell it was very painful. The air stirred again but held no immediate threat. Perhaps Jamson’s friend was in too much pain to concentrate on any form of retribution.
“You got a name?” I growled.
He hesitated, and then spat. The bloody globule landed near my toes. “Franc.”
“Untie the woman, Franc. Now,” I added, when he hesitated and glanced at Jamson.
He shuffled forward and did so. The woman scrambled free of the table and hastily lowered her skirts. If her clothing was anything to go by, she was a chambermaid rather than one of the guests. She was also, I suspected, little older than sixteen or seventeen and, if the blood I’d seen was any indication, uninitiated in the ways of Astar. My hand tightened against Jamson’s sac, and his knees buckled. He didn’t fall, but only because I shoved him back against the table.
“Are you all right?” I asked softly.
She nodded, but wouldn’t meet my gaze. Her cheeks were red, her eyes puffy with tears, and her mouth pinched.
“What’s your name?”
She hesitated, and then said, “Kara.”
“Kara, do you wish to press charges against these men?”
She rapidly shook her head. I wasn’t surprised given her position here would probably be, at best, tenuous if she did, but it nevertheless angered me that these men would so easily get away with such a serious assault.
“I’ll support you in any hearing if you wish to do so.”
Again she shook her head. “I just—” She hesitated, and sniffed. “I just want to go. Please, can I go?”
“Of course you can. But if you need—” The words died on my lips. She was already out the door.
Franc once again spat out blood and then said, “You will pay for this—”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” I cut in. “And if you don’t want your friend here to become a eunuch, I suggest you quit the threats and drag your companions around so I can keep an eye on the three of you.”
I squeezed Jamson’s ball sac as I said it, and he made another of those half-gurgled screams. His sweat and pain stung the air, but the smell did little to ease the anger within me. That anger very much wanted to not only rip his balls off but slice up his manhood to ensure he could never again violate anyone—innocent or not—in such a manner.
Franc reluctantly obeyed. Once he’d dragged the two unconscious men into my line of sight, he stopped beside them and crossed his arms. “This action will be the end of you,” he said. “We will ensure—”
“Look, if we’re going to throw threats about, let me give you one or two,” I said. “First off, I’m here under the orders of Lord Kiro, who is currently investigating the murder—”
“Murder?” Franc said. “We haven’t murdered anyone—”
“Not in this room, maybe, although who knows what might have happened if I hadn’t walked in when I did.”
“Oh for freedom’s sake, it was only a damn maid—”
He didn’t get any further, because my knife buried itself in his thigh. He screamed and went down, clutching his leg with both hands as blood began to pulse. I squeezed Jamson’s balls harder then released him; he made an incoherent noise and dropped to his knees.
The door opened and the footman who’d given me directions entered. His gaze swept the room and, just for an instant, something close to delight crossed his expression before he got it under control.
“Is everything all right, m’lady?”
“Everything is perfectly fine, thank you.” I tore a strip of fabric from my skirt then walked over to Franc, throwing the material at him before bending to retrieve my knife.
“No, it’s not,” Jamson wheezed. “Arrest this witch, she attacked us—”
“Four Upper Reaches lords brought down by one woman? Won’t that be the talk of the masque,” I said. “Are you sure you want to advertise that? Because I don’t mind ensuring everyone knows the precise reason why I attacked the four of you.”
Jamson glared at me. His friend didn’t even do that much—he was too busy tying the material around his thigh in an effort to stem the bleeding. I returned my gaze to the footman. “Could you have a guard placed on the door? None of these men are to leave until Lord Kiro arrives to interrogate them.”
Jamson snorted, though the sound came out weirdly given he was still battling to breathe and obviously remained in pain. “Taking advantage of a maid is hardly a crime worthy of Kiro’s—”
I raised a hand in warning and he cut the rest of the comment off. The footman bowed. “I shall order it done, m’lady.”
“For freedom’s sake, why are you taking orders from her? She’s a damn nobody!” Jamson said. “I’m the Rossi heir a
pparent and you’re mine to command—”
“And Lord Kiro’s orders,” I cut in, “override everything else.”
“You’re not Lord Kiro—”
“No, but I am here on his orders—and that can be easily confirmed by simply requesting his presence here immediately.”
“I think perhaps that would be for the best, m’lady.” The footman hesitated. “And perhaps I should ask a healer to attend Lord Franc?”
“He doesn’t deserve it, but I guess you’d better.”
He ducked his head to hide his smile and retreated, closing the door behind him. I cleaned my knife on the coat of one of the unconscious men, and then said, “Right, tell me about Marcus Rossi.”
Jamson drew in a deep, shuddery breath, and then said, “He’s my father.”
“And you wanted him dead.”
He snorted. “So what? I’m not the only eldest son who wishes death on his parent.”
“But I’m betting few of the others have actually followed through with the desire, as you have.”
“What on earth are you blathering about, woman?”
The confusion on his face was very real. He might be a drunken abuser, but it very much looked like he wasn’t guilty of patricide.
“I’m talking about your father, and the fact he was murdered this evening.”
Jamson blinked. Surprise, horror, hope, and fear—the emotions tumbled across his face in quick succession. “Seriously?”
“Yes. And given you have the most to gain by his death—”
“If I was going to murder anyone,” he retorted, “it’d be the bitch carrying the spawn of another. He or she is the real threat to my position, thanks to the fact it’ll be born of his legal wife.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t in fact murder your father? Or did you perhaps arrange for someone else to do it?”
“I didn’t kill him and I didn’t ask anyone else to do it, but I’m damn glad someone did.”
That was, beyond any doubt, a truthful statement. His hatred of his father and his elation at his death were evident in his voice and in his eyes.
A knock at the door had me glancing around. “Enter.”
The door opened and a gray-clad healer walked in. His gaze quickly scanned the room and a smile twitched his lips. Jamson and his friends really weren’t liked up here in the Reaches, it seemed. “M’lady,” he said, with a quick nod at me. “I’ve been told to advise you Lord Kiro is on his way. A guard has been placed at the door to ensure these four remain here.”
